‘Just some coffee, please!’, I roared while my lids seemed to be having a weird chemistry. I barely could separate the siamese – sleep was needed, but coffee was to replace it.
‘Americano?’ I heard the voice of a Linda who was my caffeine supplier.
‘Filter coffee?’ she asks smiling.
‘No, God damn it. Just a damn coffee, a double dose of caffeine, something to keep me awake and functional!’ No, who am I kidding? I kept my outburst as an ‘inburst’ – for myself. Just answered:
‘Yes, please.’ Smile. Credible. Discreet.
Linda smiles back and asks (god damn it!) again:
‘With room for milk?’
‘Yes, please’, (…zzZzz…)
‘Yes, please’, (what I mean: yes, please just give me whatever you want that involves me and caffeine in the next two minutes).
‘Medium, please’… keeps going on forever and a day plus this morning that seems to never end.
I get my coffee, filter coffee, with spare room for milk, skimpy milk, medium-sized beverage and Leave the place. And then it hits me!
When moving to London I knew it’s the second most diverse city in the world, right after New York. You know what it’s said, right? God is a Londoner. And it’s not the street-parade of shades that makes it obvious. It’s somehow the coffee.
London Baristas need to please the skinny obsessed, the sugar addicts, the dull, the desperate, the posh, the ‘I need coffee to live’ type. Etcetera. Asians, Indians, Eastern Europeans, etcetera-zens. So they invented:
- milk skimpy or soy
- macchiato plain, with hazelnut, almond, vanilla, chocolate. caramel.
- americano, filter, espresso, latte, cappuccino.
- hot, cold, warm, white, black, small, large, medium, whatever.
Then there’s something else. In the bakery you find so many types of bread that you almost drop the ides of carbs for breakfast. White, brown, with seeds, well-baked, brown-baked, sweet, without gluten, organic, etcetera bread.
At some point you get to know you only drink black americano or triple espresso and eat brown bread with seeds. When that moment comes, you pass the test of deciding for coffee as if there was a life-sentence. This is the moment when something else happens.
You know my Afghanistan key chain? Today in the tube I found myself hiding it. What if some Turkmenistan will be around and feel angry, offended, etcetera?! Finally you understand you are part of the 8.7 million etceteras; diversity.
London is not about plain coffee or simply bread. No! it’s a hell of a diverse life decision-making! It’s not just caffeine or flour, it’s always about the etc.
The only thing you don’t put in the etcetera category is London at night. In the darkness you only see what matters. Plain me, plain us, plain coffee. Enjoy my plain video.